


Audrey

by greenwillow



Series: Top of the Class [5]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Secret Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: Aethelflaed needs a distraction, so she drags Aldhelm along on a shopping trip. They make an unexpected stop on the way back.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Top of the Class [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048940
Comments: 18
Kudos: 7





	Audrey

**Author's Note:**

> No major warnings for this chapter, though there is a mention of a past death. Unfortunately, though there is some allusion to getting it in this chapter, I did not feel justified in using the GET IT AETHELFLAED tag. I hope I will be forgiven with the promise of future use of said tag.

“Well, if it isn’t the elusive Aethelflaed.”

Aethelflaed jumps at the pressure of a hand in the middle of her back, nearly spilling her latte.

“Uhtred!”

“Sorry,” he grins, leaning against the condiment cart.

“You’re forgiven,” she sighs, setting down the shaker of cinnamon. “And it hasn’t been that long, has it? I had drinks with you all only last week.”

“Yes, but you have so far ignored every single invitation to a Bebbanburg party.” His tone rises and falls as if he’s chiding her—something he frankly has no right to do, but when has that ever stopped him?

Aethelflaed has known Uhtred since her first term. He’d been in her chemistry class—he was retaking it—and they’d fallen into an easy friendship.

He had started a few years before her and at the rate he’s going would be here a year after she’d graduated, but he seems to value the social experience above academics. He had inherited the old Bebbanburg house from his uncle, affectionately termed “the Burg,” which provided a weekend destination for many a roving undergraduate.

Aethelflaed has been avoiding his parties, he’s right. Uhtred’s house is always a bevy of activity and she simply does not have the energy this term, not with classes and extracurriculars. She doesn’t have the inclination, either. Those parties had been great fun for a younger, more naive Aethelflaed, but she no longer needed the escape from Aethelred or a place where she and Erik could hang out without being discovered by someone who might tell her parents.

“I’ve been busy,” she explains. “You know this year is very demanding for me.”

“I know, I know. I just thought you might have stopped by once in the past two months.”

He’s teasing, but she knows he means something by it.

“Just coursework, you say?” He’s raising a drink to his lips—one Aethelflaed was fairly sure he had not paid for—and winking at the barista. “Nothing…else is occupying your time?

Aethelflaed’s heartbeat quickens. There was, of course, a very slight chance she and Aldhelm had been found out, but this way of announcing it was far too subtle for Uhtred.

“I’m not dating anyone if that’s what you’re after,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well that is surprising for a girl as popular you,” Uhtred says. “No worthy candidates for your consort this term?”

“Are you attempting to apply for the position?”

He laughs and shrugs. “I am sure you are not wanting for applications.”

Truth be told, she has received very little interest, but perhaps that is due to her being on campus very little outside of classes, and at parties even less. It’s for the best, as she had no interest in fending off well-meaning but irritating undergraduates.

Uhtred is distracted now and the conversation drops. Aethelflaed follows his gaze and sees Gisela is crossing the quad. As much as he might flirt, he’s become incapable of looking at another woman while Gisela is near. The spell she has over him, if not quite sweet, is impressive.

Uhtred’s eyes snap back to Aethelflaed for a moment as he adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I will see you at our next party, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she lies and nudges him in Gisela’s direction.

Aethelflaed watches Gisela greet him with a bright smile as they fall in step together, and a knot begins to form in her chest.

Less caffeine, she tells herself, and heads to Contract Law.

* * *

“I’m going to say something you may not like,” Aethelflaed says to Aldhelm Friday afternoon.

Her words take a moment to register. He looks up and straight ahead first, then turns to her with a slightly confused expression. To be fair, she had been rather abrupt.

“You need new clothes.”

His brow furrows and he glances down at his trousers.

“I bought this suit only a few months ago. What are you talking about?”

This is going to be harder than she had anticipated. In his defense, the charcoal suit he’s wearing isn't as offensive as the coal-black one he likes to wear on Tuesdays. But none of them are very good, nor very professorial.

“You dress like you’re in middle management,” she explains, moving closer to him on the couch so that she can brush a finger over the texture. “And the fabrics…they’re all synthetic blends. Just…let me take you shopping, please.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Going to dress me up in tweed, are you?”

She can’t help but laugh. “Tweed would be an improvement, trust me. You need a totally different palette, Aldhelm. Warmer colors, some earth tones. It’s in the interest of your career.”

He leans back against the couch. That’s usually a sign she’s won, but there’s a trace of skepticism still on his face.

“This seems like a distinctly un-casual activity,” he points out.

He’s not exactly wrong, but he doesn’t have to be right either.

“It will be entirely casual.”

“It won't be private,” he argues.

“Well obviously we won’t be shopping here,” she laughs. “There’s a place about an hour’s drive away where my father has purchased a few things. They have quality, at least in terms of ready-made items.”

Aldhelm glances behind them at the painting hanging over the couch, and she knows he’s thinking of money.

“If you truly don’t want to come, I can’t force you. But if money is the issue, I will pay. It will be a treat for me, more than anything else.”

He tips his head to one side and surveys her. He’s not a proud man in that way, which she appreciates, but she does wonder if she’s pushed him too far.

“Still seems risky,” he says finally.

“Trust me, our destination could not be less appealing to the average university student.”

He presses a hand to his mouth, continuing to think, then removes it to ask, “You really, really hate my clothes don't you?”

She’s done her best not to show it, but she can only be expected to suffer so much. “I really, really do…it’s just, it hurts me that you clearly try but you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He lays a hand to his chest in mock pain. “Do I have any remaining dignity in your eyes? Or did I ever…”

“I promise it’s just this one thing.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting out of this,” he admits. “We’re never in public together, it’s not like it matters what I wear.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Aldhelm,” she sighs. “Will you just let me help you?”

“It doesn’t quite seem as if I have a choice, does it?”

He’s teasing, and she’s letting him, because that’s just how they are around each other. The past several weeks—six, if she’s counting, which she’s not—their time together has surpassed her expectations. With Aldhelm she has all the benefits of a relationship (sex, human connection, someone to pass the time with when she wants it) without the downsides (having to entertain each other’s friends and family, having to perform socially, the drama that inevitably comes with a normal relationship). They can be honest with each other with no expectations of…anything, really—and it’s incredibly refreshing. It won't go on forever, she knows, but the easiness between them is worth appreciating.

They’ve developed some kind of a routine, which is also appreciated. He has begun sleeping over on Fridays, then usually they spend Saturday mornings together. It’s still casual—they make coffee, work on their respective projects, have sex. Still no strings. Still no complications.

Going out together could be construed as risky, but they weren’t likely to see anyone in Stirchley, of all places. And even if they did, they were capable of comporting themselves as friends. Technically, yes, it was another rule violation…but they’d set the rules, so if they wanted to, they could break them. And he didn’t seem opposed in this particular case.

“Tomorrow morning, then,” she says, and falls next to him on the couch.

He slips an arm over her shoulders, and she feels that strange pang in her chest again. The term is becoming more stressful, she reminds herself. Perhaps this shopping diversion is just what she needs.

* * *

“Is this the type of thing you want me to wear?” Aldhelm asks, picking up an oxblood suit jacket and holding it to his body with a deadpan expression.

“Perhaps if you’re hosting the Brit Awards.”

He seems fascinated by the amount of clothing in her closet, so she sits down on the bed to let him peruse while she finishes her coffee. He’s is wearing jeans today—not terribly stylish, but classic and not a bad fit— and a marled grey jumper. It’s actually an almost acceptable ensemble. She’ll do her best to bring some of that tone to his work wardrobe.

“This is, erm….elegant,” he says, gesturing to a white gown that was hanging toward the back.

“That was my coming out dress,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t actually know why that's here.”

“Good lord, people still do that?”

“Clearly you haven’t met my parents,” she jokes, then realizes that’s a bit awkward and jumps up.

“We’d better get going.”

Aldhelm nods and follows her lead. It’s still much too early for the average undergrad to be out and about, but she pulls the car around to the side of her building and he hops in after he’s scanned the street for anyone who may recognize him.

They don't talk much on the drive—they aren’t used to being in a car together—so she turns the radio on. He’s holding himself in the somewhat uneasy posture that she had been used to seeing at the beginning of term—shoulders tense, fingers occasionally drumming nervously against his thighs. But if she glances over at him he smiles.

His tension does not subside when they arrive at the shop. It’s a bit high end for the locale, she will admit, but she maintains it’s their best option.

Aethelflaed takes the lead. He will need two suits, she tells the salesman, eight shirts, a few pairs of trousers, and a sports coat or two.

Aldhelm flinches at the tag on one of the shirts and glances back at her with some level of judgment. She just shakes her head and arranges a fitting room for him.

“You’re going to make me parade each of these in front of you, aren't you?” he asks, watching the fitting room rack fill with hangers.

“You only need to try two of the shirts, one of each cut,” she says matter of factly, “but yes, everything else. Hurry up, we haven't got all day!”

“Someone was clearly the older sibling,” he says dryly.

“And someone was clearly the only child.”

He snorts a laugh and closes the fitting room door.

The first suit is bad. It’s a lovely fabric, but it’s cut for a larger man. He’s tall, with nice shoulders, but not very bulky. It’s part of why his off the rack suits are so, well…unsuitable.

The second suit is better and the third is perfect. She orders it in blue and grey. They need a few minor alterations, so the shop will call him when they’re ready to be picked up.

Sports coats are up next, and Aethelflaed has quite a bit of fun with herringbone and harris tweed. The salesman gives his feedback directly to Aethelflaed, which Aldhelm seems to find only mildly irritating. His opinions, he is well aware, rank least important.

They take the shirts and trousers with them that day, a few ties (which he insists he does not need), and a sports coat, which he actually quite likes and insists on paying for himself.

Lunch is at a small cafe. It’s warm enough to sit outside so Aethelflaed keeps her sunglasses on in the unlikely event that anyone who knows either of them should pass.

They’re just finishing when Aldhelm’s phone buzzes from his pocket.

He frowns as he looks at it.

“Everything alright?”

He nods but stands up. “I need to take this,” he explains, and steps away down the street.

Rather mysterious behavior, Aethelflaed thinks, as she settles the bill. Perhaps it’s Pyrlig, or perhaps it’s another girl—they’d never discussed exclusivity. They’re being safe, of course, but perhaps she ought to bring it up.

He returns two minutes later when the plates are cleared with an apologetic expression.

“I’m afraid I have to go home and get my car, do you mind?”

“Of course not—is something wrong?”

“No, I’ve just got to drive to Longbridge on an errand.”

Her curiosity is piqued. “Well we’re only a few miles from there, it’s silly for you to go home and then all the way back.”

“I can’t ask you to be my chauffeur, Aethelflaed.”

“You didn’t. I’m offering.”

If he says no, she’ll let it drop. But it seems wildly inefficient for him.

He’s considering her offer, glancing at his watch.

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience?”

“Not at all.” She wraps her scarf around her neck and collects her things. “What is this mysterious errand?”

“It’s just my mum,” he explains, “Let me just phone her back, I won’t be a moment.”

She does her best to hide her surprise but he seems to sense her inner thoughts and turns to face her.

“If that’s too much, it’s really not a problem for me to drive myself.”

“No, it’s not a problem. I just didn’t know your parents lived so close.”

“Just mum,” he says.

“Right,” she says, feeling stupid, and suppresses the million questions that come to her mind.

He steps away for another moment, and she waits by the table, watching him make the call.

Aldhelm gives her general directions as they set off, and she realizes she hasn't thought much of his childhood or parents until this point. She’d rather assumed he’d sprung fully formed from the ground of some library or other. She can hardly picture him as a child. What a serious boy he must have been.

“It’s nothing to worry about, it should be quick,” he says as a matter of explanation as they near their destination. “You…don’t have to come in, if you don’t want to.”

She can feel his eyes on her again.

“I mean, of course, if you’d like to, you’re welcome, I just…I know this is not exactly our agreement.”

“Neither was shopping,” she points out.

“Tit for tat, I suppose.” She can hear the smile in his voice.

They’re silent until he directs her to his mother’s street.

“It’s there, ahead on the left.”

He’s pointing to a small cottage. There is a large willow tree out front, and the door is painted red. It’s incredibly picaresque and not at all what Aethelflaed had imagined.

She parks, suddenly feeling very nervous. He clears his throat, hands flexed on his knees.

“I can be back out in five minutes,” he offers again.

“I’m not going to wait in the car,” she replies, deciding in the moment.

He gives her a tight nod, and they step out.

As he unlocks the door, she wonders what sort of mild emergency they’ll find inside. He doesn’t seem worried.

The house is cheerful, quite cozy, and furnished in a very old fashioned style. The front room, which is right off the entryway, has a large bay window and a stone wall in which a fireplace is set. There are tall shelves, overflowing with books but still orderly somehow, along nearly the perimeter of the room.

“In here,” a woman’s voice calls, and they make their way back to the kitchen.

A woman a little shorter than Aethelflaed with close-cropped brown hair shot through with grey is standing by the sink. She turns to smile at Aldhelm, who leans down to kiss her cheek, then her eyes shift to Aethelflaed.

“You must be the friend. I’m Audrey.”

Aethelflaed introduces herself and extends her hand. Audrey has a firm grip. She has sharp eyes set in an angular face and she’s wearing a black shirt with a faint floral pattern and a pair of burgundy house shoes.

She looks rather out of place in this home. She’s all hard lines and edges, whereas the cottage looks right out of a storybook. Aethelflaed’s curiosity grows.

“What’s Matilda gotten up to this time?” Aldhelm asks.

“She upstairs under the guest room bed,” Audrey sighs. “She won’t come out as much as I’ve tried to coax her, and it’s been two days now. I can’t reach her, and the broom seems to make her more determined to stay there.”

Aldhelm nods and pushes his sleeves up.

“I’ll just run up there for a minute,” he says, glancing at Aethelflaed.

“Good luck?” she says, brow furrowed, and he darts upstairs without further explanation.

“Do you need a cup of tea or water?” Audrey asks.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“That damn cat,” Audrey sighs, crossing her arms. “It was his father’s, you know. I never liked having animals around, but he got soft in his old age, and now I’m stuck with it.” She speaks matter-of-factly with just a hint of bitterness. She has the same mouth and way of holding it that Aldhelm does.

“We had a dog growing up, but my mother didn’t much care for it either,” Aethelflaed says, trying not to be too obvious as she looks around. The kitchen is somewhat sparse. Audrey does not seem like the overly domestic type.

“He passed four years ago, and every week it’s something new with this creature,” Audrey explains. “Keeps me from my work more than not. But I can’t bear to get rid of her, you know.”

“Of course,” Aethelflaed nods sympathetically. “What is your work, if I may ask?”

“I’m an academic, I’m afraid,” she replies, mouth pulling in the same wry self-deprecating way that Aldhelm’s does. “I’m a scholar of the Byzantine Empire. Not working as much any longer, but it’s more due to that damn cat than anything.”

Her eyes are alight with humor now. Aethelflaed laughs.

Aldhelm returns a moment later with a small black cat curled under his arm. There’s a bit of dust clinging to the front of his jumper.

He hands the cat to his mother, who chides the animal gently and then brings her into the next room.

Aldhelm leans against the kitchen counter, his shoulders infinitely more relaxed than they had been in the car.

“So, this is your childhood home.”

“Since I was about ten, yeah.” He glances up at the ceiling. “We will not be taking a tour, I’m too afraid any pictures of me hanging about might compromise my ability to command the classroom.”

He’s speaking in a low voice, clearly not wanting his mother to overhear. Aethelflaed bites back a laugh.

Audrey returns, catless.

“At least she's eating now. I do hope you closed the bedroom doors.”

“Of course,” Aldhelm says, moving to reach an arm around her.

She looks up at him as if seeing him for the first time since they’d arrived.

“You look tired.” She’s not concerned, just stating a fact. She turns back to Aethelflaed and asks. “And how do you two know each other?”

“We were undergraduates together,” supplies Aethelflaed quickly, having anticipated this question.

Aldhelm raises an eyebrow at her, but it isn’t technically a lie.

Audrey nods. She grabs a rather forlorn plant by the sink and begins to water it. “I can’t seem to keep these things alive. What was your degree in, Aethelflaed?”

“Law,” Aethelflaed says. This is perhaps a bit more of a lie.

“My goodness,” Audrey replies. “And are you to be a barrister?”

“Yes.”

“You look the part,” Audrey says, eyes sweeping over her, and Aethelflaed isn’t entirely sure if that’s intended as a compliment.

Aldhelm checks his watch.

“You need to be going, I’m sure,” Audrey says, glancing between the two of them.

Aethelflaed doesn’t reply, unsure if she will offend.

“We probably ought to, Mum,” Aldhelm says softly. “But I’ll be by Wednesday for supper.”

“You might not want to bother,” she says with a slightly jaded voice. “I’m so behind on this book it might just be spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls her towards him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sounds great. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

She’s looking at him again, and something softens the hard lines of her mouth and brings a gentleness to her eyes. “Very well.” She sighs and turns back to Aethelflaed, speaking curtly. “It was nice to meet you. Best of luck.”

It sounds ominous until Aethelflaed remembers her lie.

They’re quiet for the first half of the drive back. Two rules broken in one day is plenty for Aethelflaed to think about, and she assumes he is preoccupied with thoughts of home.

“We could have stayed,” she says when they’re about halfway home.

“No,” he replies after a moment. “It’s alright. She prefers to have her space to herself.”

Aethelflaed nods, though she wonders exactly what he means by that.

“I’m sorry, about your father.”

He’s quiet again. Her heart begins to race and she hopes she hasn’t said the wrong thing.

“Thanks,” he finally says. His voice is a bit softer than she’s used to.

A few more minutes pass, during which time Aethelflaed wishes she’d thought to turn the radio on when they’d begun the return journey. It would be too awkward to turn it on now.

“It was my first year.” His voice is low, like it had been in the kitchen, but more obviously controlled. He’s pressing his thumb into his palm in a repetitive way, and she’s careful not to look over at him. “It was a bit sudden…cardiac arrest, they said. I don’t think she’s over the shock yet, to be honest. She was the one who…well, it happened at home. I’m not sure why she hasn't moved yet. Too many good memories, I suppose.”

“That’s awful,” Aethelflaed murmurs.

“She’s always been a bit cold, but…I mean to say, I hope you weren’t too offended.” He seems actually worried she may have been.

“I wasn’t…I admit, I thought she was perhaps a bit odd, but I suspect she found me odd too.”

He laughs. “We don’t have many visitors anymore, she’s out of practice. My father was the charismatic jovial one. She’s the rather rigid academic type.”

“So that’s where you get it.”

“I assume you’re referring to my warmth and charisma.”

She smiles and glances over at him. He’s staring out the side window, but his face is tranquil. At least she hasn’t totally ruined things between them.

Aldhelm’s flat is in a newer building, probably been built after university enrollment expanded in the eighties. She realizes as she pulls up that they’re only a few minutes walk from Uhtred’s.

“Do you want help up?” she asks.

Aldhelm glances towards the bags. “I think I can manage.”

His eyes flit back to her.

“You probably shouldn’t linger, I know that undergraduates live in this neighborhood. One or two in my building, probably.”

She nods. Something twists within her, and she feels as if she’s done something wrong. It’s an unpleasant and unfamiliar feeling.

“I would thank you,” he says, glancing at the bags again with a smile, “But I know this was purely a selfish endeavor on your part.”

His eyes dart down to her lips for only a second, then he opens his door.

She unlocks the boot. He gives her a slight wave once he reaches the door of his building.

Later that evening when she’s working on a paper she considers texting him but isn’t sure what to say. She eventually turns the tv on, heats up some leftovers, and then goes to bed early.

She wakes up at 3:00 am, checks her phone, and then turns it off. The knot has returned to her chest.

Next morning she texts Uhtred to see if there's a party tonight. He texts her no, but he’ll reconsider if she’s planning to attend.

 _Maybe_ , she texts back.

Monday comes. She sees Aldhelm across campus. He’s wearing the herringbone coat. It looks good. At least she can congratulate herself on that. She’s paid her credit card bill but felt very silly doing it for some reason.

He passes by her in the library later. It’s the lunch hour, and not many others are around.

“I did want to apologize, by the way,” he says quietly from the other side of the stacks.

“For what?” she asks, hoping her tone is neither too cold nor too warm.

“Saturday. I know it wasn’t exactly the day you were expecting, but I appreciate your flexibility.”

She nods and catches his eye for a moment.

He seems to want to say something else, but then the moment passes, and his gaze falls.

“I should be going, I have a class.”

Aethelflaed nods, and he’s gone.

The knot in her chest has loosened slightly. She finds the book she was looking for (it had been improperly shelved) and makes her way to the front desk.

Aethelred, of course, is leaning nearby, flirting with an unsuspecting first year.

If she was a good person, Aethelflaed thought, she’d warn the girl. But she’s not, so she merely checks out her book and heads home.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking of [this post](https://wildwren.tumblr.com/post/635678704212770816/a-guide-to-tlk-fan-groups) by wildwren while writing this chapter...and laughing hysterically. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed you can reblog the photoset and playlist [here.](https://aadmelioraa.tumblr.com/post/637952012510773248/aadmelioraa-modern-au-college-au)


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